Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Something wicked this way comes.

I hate days like this. Especially when they line up, string themselves together, and don’t give me a moments rest. It’s not the uneasy agitation that I mind so much - though, it is ridiculously tiring - but it’s that those feelings usually signal the start of worse times to come. I can’t even blame it on the hormones - I’m not on the evil red pills right now anyway, but I am due for another cycle. I’m certainly not starting that cycle until this mood passes. I cannot imagine the apocalypse that would follow if I took them now. I also hate blaming all my mental and emotional swings on my meds when the truth is this: I blame MS.

In that first year, even before the official diagnosis, I had a lot of dark days. A lot. I even went for about 6 weeks without sleeping more than 3 hours a night. (That was bad. Really bad.) I didn’t want to acknowledge, at that time, that my issues may be MS related. I knew that’s what that year’s worth of testing was about; they were trying to determine my diagnosis. I knew it was likely going to be MS. But it was so much more convenient to ignore the fact that a very scary brain MRI had turned up unexpectedly in the first place. All those tests and bloodwork and doctor’s visits that year? what? didn’t everyone have that? Psh…. whatever, I was choosing ignorance and I was sticking with it.

March 13th 2009 changed that. I finally went to my one-year-later follow up visit (only two months later than I should have) and my neurologist looked at me very matter of factly and said, “well, you have Multiple Sclerosis.” Not-so-blissful ignorance: shattered. End scene.

I spent the next year falling prey to massive meltdowns that came, seemingly, out of nowhere. Eventually, I learned to listen to my body better and when the hallmark precursors would make their presence known, I would take it easy. Sometimes I could even avoid some of the more serious physical meltdowns. Not always, but sometimes. And that felt like progress.

The shit of it is, I don’t really know how to stave off the emotional meltdowns. I am aware of the precursors though. This simmering unrest? It’s my MS equivalent of a Kansas tornado warning system. You hear that siren go off and you better head for cover. It usually boils over into anger or crying fits or totally irrational unstableness.

Yeah, it’s super fun.

In these times of unrest, I find myself very torn. I don’t want to be around people. I don’t want to talk to people. I don’t have the energy to invest. But, at the same time, part of me hopes the right person will reach out and lead me out of that darkness. Trouble is, I don’t know who that person is. I don’t know if I’d let them get close enough to try. And yet, I am vaguely bitter at everyone for not trying.

(no offense intended; trust me, you’re better off not trying.)

((no, really.))

I actually hate people for living their lives without these feelings. Without having to worry about the tornado warning. And that’s *totally* ridiculous because I know everyone is dealing with their own shit too - different shit than my shit and sometimes shit that’s far worse than my shit - but I still harbor bitterness. Which, I then feel badly about. And then again, I totally don’t.

Maybe “torn” isn’t the right word. I’m clearly a head case.

I wish this storm would pass already.

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